More than life
by chaela.info
Summary: "Your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life." My try to give the royal family of Mirkwood a backstory.
1. prologue

_**My first attempt to write a LOTR/Hobbit fanfic. I'll mix both, book and movie canon, so if you don't like additions/changes in what was given to us by J.R.R. Tolkien, this may not be the kind of story you should read. Also English is not my mother tongue, so there might be errors in spelling and grammar. If there is anyone out there wanting to be my beta for this story, feel free to message me. I'll be very thankful for your help. **_  
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This story wanders through my head since I learnt that the necklace Thranduil wants was a necklace made for his wife. I was happy that BOTFA gave a little bit more backstory for Legolas' parents, but there are still many things that have been left open. This is my try to stick together what we know. I will start at the battle of the last alliance and on some point I'll change what happened in BOTFA (and maybe also DOS) to give Thranduil and Legolas some more father-son-moments.  
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_**For the German version of this story, take a look at my profile page.  
**_

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Incredulous, he let his gaze wander over the plain. There were no trees that could block his view of the mighty army that marched incessantly upon them. War was not entirely unknown to him. Even thought he was young compared to most other elfs, he had fought many battles at Oropher, his fathers side. But this was different. This was the Last Alliance. The last, desperate attempt to defeat the darkness that threatened Middle-earth.  
Orcs, Wargs, Trolls, and other dark creatures were the ones he saw in the distance getting closer, and it was fear that germinated in his mind. It seemed to crawl over the battlefield like toxic haze and let sprout a bad feeling inside him – one that he better should have listened to.

"Get ready, son", he heard Oropher's powerful voice and turned to his direction. He stood there like a strong tree, full of confidence and strength, a crown surrounding his forehead and golden hair. Behind him stood his army of Elves of Mirkwood, waiting for his command.  
Thranduil cast a worried look across the other armies of the Alliance. The men under the leadership of Elendil and Gil-Galad's Elves, among them those of Imladris, which was commonly known as Rivendell, led by Elrond.  
"But ... father, Gil-Galad-," Thranduil began, but was interrupted by King Oropher.  
"Listen son, never let anyone tell you what you have to do, certainly not when it comes to the lives of your people," with these words he turned to Amdir, who brought his small army from the woods of Lothlorien with him. After he replied with a nod, they gave the command to rush forward.

Thranduil neither heard the horror of the other armies, nor the warnings of their commanders. He followed his father blindly into battle, as he always did. He had already separated countless heads from bodies and carried away many wounds, when he saw his father fall to the ground a few meters away. He did not know who or what wounded him so badly. All that mattered now, was to reach Oropher, but when he took his fathers hand in his own, all life from his eyes was already extinguished. The King of Greenwood the Great was dead, and with him half of his army.

With trembling limbs and tears on his cheeks, he knelt beside his father, as he felt two hands on his shoulders, trying to drag him away. Instinctively, he braced himself against it.

"Thranduil!", urged Elrond.  
"I can not leave him!", he shouted at him, but the Lord of Rivendell did not let himself disabuse of his intention.  
"You must! Half of your army is still alive. If you fall, you leave not only them headless, but also your people in Greenwood the Great!"  
Reluctantly, but physically and mentally to weak to fight against it, he let himself drag out of the center of the battlefield. Two wood elves, which where not that badly injured, took care of him.  
"Give him a safe conduct to Imladris," Elrond ordered the two elves, who carefully let their lord sit down on the dusty earth. "My people their will take care of your wounded before you return to your homeland. Some of my fighters will accompany you. "  
"No," replied Thranduil and took Elrond's arm with his last strength. "You need everyone here."  
A slight smile crossed Elrond's face, which was also drawn by battle. "And Mirkwood needs his king."  
That smile was the last thing Thranduil's eyes saw before he slipped into darkness ...

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_**Please don't forget to review, as I'll only write further if I know that there is an audience for this! :)**_


	2. golden hair

**Thanks for your follows and reviews. Here comes my first chapter. I hope you like it even thought it isn't that much. I'm still searching for someone to be my beta, so please ignore the mistakes or write me a PM with suggestions. Also your opinion is higly appreciated. :)**

When he awoke, Thranduil thought to see the white cloudy sky above him until his eyes adjusted to the light of day. And with the habit came the memories. Memories of a battle, of lost warriors and finally of a lost king.

"Adar! [Father]", he screamed and sat up in the same moment.

"Daro, hir Vuin [stop, my lord]", came a soft, unfamiliar female voice. He immediately felt soft hands push him back into the pillows.

"Where am I?" he asked exhausted.

"In security, my lord, in the House of Elrond in Imladris," she replied.

But it let him pause only for a brief moment, seconds later, the young Elf straightened up again, this time with the intention to leave his bed.

"My lord!" She repeated in the common language, but he let himself be misled not this time. His bare feet were already on the ground, but were covered by the long, silky cloak they had clothed him in. By each of his, a little shaky steps, it shone silvery-gray and had a small sash behind him.

Although he had not been here for many years, he knew exactly where he had to go, which course would bring him to his people - or what was left of them. He hurried ignoring the premises of the young woman who followed him. He did not look to the left and not to right, until that moment when he almost tripped over a small elf boy. The child did not even reach his knees, but it already had a delicate, silver tiara on his brunette hair. When it almost collided with the Prince of Mirkwood, it fell to the ground in shock and lower lip trembled, assuming he'd cry soon.

"Lindir!", exclaimed the lady, who had followed him, darted past him and helped the child. "You know you shall not play at the Houses of Healing," she admonished the child and tugged his little outfit. Then she turned back around. "Excuse me, my lord, my cousin is sometimes a little naughty."

Over Thranduil's lips flashed a small smile that she answered immediately. It was the first time he looked at her properly. She was little more than a head shorter than him. Her long hair ended just above her hips and had a nice, golden blonde tone to match the blue of her eyes. Just like the little boys, her hair was graced by a tiara. The rest of hers was hidden by a robe of purple tones. Her beauty made him for a moment not only forget his people, but also the last battle, and even the fall of his father, faded in the breath of the moment. She was beautiful and he would have perhaps looked forever at her, if the pain had not suddenly taken possession of him and forced him to his knees. "My lord," she said, frightened and put her arms around him in an attempt to support him. "You should return to your quarters. You are still too weak and the wounds are too fresh. "

He shook his head. "No," he said through clenched teeth.

"But-" she started to say, when he interrupted her.

"No," his tone was not angry, but determined.

When she said nothing for a moment, he turned to her and looked at her with a slight smile on his face. "Goheno nin [Forgive me]," he apologized softly. "Just a moment. Please. "

She hesitated for a moment, seemed to think, but then she nodded and helped the elf to stand up.

"Lindir, go back to your mother," she said shortly facing the child, then she went with Thranduil the few remaining steps to the premises where the remaining warriors of Mirkwood were supplied.

When he entered those rooms, it was for Thranduil like he would pass out on the battlefield again. Many of his fighters lay in their beds, apparently unconscious, others were awake, but badly wounded. But what frightened him even more, was their small number.

"Hir vuin, Thranduil [My Lord, Thranduil]", suddenly a young warrior came standing before him. . "What a relief fills my heart to see you well", he said.

"Well, 'well'," the lady said to Thranduil's rights sarcastically, but was largely ignored.

"Galion, how many did we lose in battle?" The prince asked.

"About two-thirds, my lord."

Thranduil lowered his head in sadness. _So many_. So many immortal souls who lost their lives.

Suddenly he felt five delicate fingers close around his upper arm. "It's time. You need to relax", she reminded him of his promise. "At ngell nîn [Please]."

Thranduil nodded and then let himself led back to his bed.

"I know it may be, if at all, only a small consolation for you, my Lord, but Lord Elrond let us know that the battle of Dargolad has been won. The free peoples are now on their way to Mordor, "she let him know when she led him back to his room.

Thranduil's heart made a very small hop. So his people had not died in vain. Maybe there was still a chance to defeat the darkness that threatened to engulf Middle-earth. To his regret, the wood elves would, however, contribute no more help to do so. His people had been too severely depleted.

"It's a comfort. That's the main thing, "he let know the elf with the golden hair.

"Good," she replied, giving him, now that he was back in his bed, some liquid, which she offered him to drink. "Drink this."

He looked at her suspiciously as he took the cup.

"It's just tea," she replied, knowing that he suspected a sleeping potion in it.

Although it might have actually been only tea, he fell asleep shortly thereafter from exhaustion, and this time, he was spared entirely by nightmares. Instead, there was only a woman with golden-hair ...

When he woke up again, he could not say how many hours or days he had slept. But at least he knew this time exactly where he was. To his regret, the young elf was not sitting next to him as he opened his eyes. Instead, there was another lady with brown hair. She just swapped the flowers in the vase beside his bed.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

"Oh, you're awake, my lord" she replied, bowing quickly. "How are you? Do you wish to take a meal? You certainly must be hungry. "

Thranduil shook his head. No, that wasn't the case.

"Where is the lady who took care of me the last time?"

His opponent looked at him questioningly.

"She had golden blond hair."

The elf smiled. "You certainly must think of Amariel. She is in the gardens. Shall I summon her?"

"No," he replied. "It's all right."

She nodded, then took the dry flowers and left.

So Amariel was her name. A strange name for something that floated so lightly over the ground, in his eyes, but elves never named their children without reason. He would have to find the reason by himself.

Amariel had sat down on the soft grass and stroked a few of the tender leaves of the flowers that grew in front of her when she felt someone approaching behind her. Slowly, she turned around to see to her surprise that it was the young elf prince, whom she had taken care of in the last days. First, she just sit their until it occurred to her that she had to bow. So she got up bow before him. Thranduil nodded to her. Although this behavior was not unknown to him - actually it happened every day - it fell bad to him for some reason. It felt just not right to him, that she needed to bow.

"Good morning, my lord. You seem to be healthy now. I'm glad, "she said softly.

"I am pleased, too," he replied.

Amariel smiled at him. Why was she so nervous? She had already spent so much time at his side and touched him often enough or just watched over him. So why her heart was racing now when she looked at him? Why her hands trembled at the thought of touching his?

"May I?" He asked and sat down in front of her on the soft grass.

Amariel said nothing.

"So You like flowers?" He asked, to break the burgeoning silence.

Amariel nodded. "Yes, very much."

Thranduil took a particularly beautiful, white, star-shaped flower and looked at it.

"Then you should visit me once in the Great Greenwood. The fact that we have wonderful trees, is the most well known, but only a few know about our glorious flower meadows. "

Amariel looked at him with wide eyes, which he luckily did not get to face, because he still looked at the little flower. "From where I actually have not heard anything," she said. The Prince invited her to his home?

"To be honest ...", he continued. "I am a little afraid to go home ..."

Amariel swallowed. "Why?"

"Well," he said, stroking the delicate white flower. "When I left the wood elves, I was only their prince ..."

".. Now you are their king," she finished his sentence.

He raised his eyes and looked at her. "Yes ..."

"But you will be a wonderful king," she said, and she said it not only to make him a compliment, she said it with deep conviction, even though she hardly knew him.

"Le hannon [Thank you]," he replied, whereupon she blushed slightly and lowered her head.

He took advantage of this moment to put the little star flower behind her pointed ear, then he got up and left.

Amariel paused for a few seconds before she dared to look at him.

"Aran nîn ... [my king]," she muttered as she saw him turn around the corner.


End file.
